


The Guest

by ThePatriotAngel



Category: Phantom - Susan Kay, Phantom of the Opera (2004), Pride and Prejudice (2005), Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Assassins, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Danger, F/M, Georgiana's piano, Music, Musicians, Phantom mask, Phantom of the Opera - Freeform, Secrets, Student Georgiana, Teacher Erik, Young Erik, character injury, lying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2019-09-21 16:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 13,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17046641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePatriotAngel/pseuds/ThePatriotAngel
Summary: Erik, a talented musician, magician, and architect flees from Persia with assassins on his heels. He escapes to the only place he can think of- Pemberley, home of Mr. Darcy, his new wife Elizabeth, and his sister, Georgiana.Georgiana is intrigued by this tall stranger. His musical talents and knowledge of music, science, and medicine are startling, almost as startling as the porcelain mask that hides part of his face. He's the strangest man she's ever seen, but she can't deny the strange connection she seems to have with him.Erik is intrigued by the young girl who plays piano with such passion. Her soul is made of light, the opposite of his own. She's innocent... pure...corruptable. Erik tries to contain the darkness within so that it will not hurt the young, bright girl he has started to connect to.Being a guest at Pemberley is difficult, especially when Darcy's assertive Aunt Catherine learns of the musical genius staying with her niece and nephew.





	1. One

          

Chapter 1

In a bright room, a small family of three lounged one sunny Saturday afternoon. It was too hot to go outside and too humid to sleep. So, they each occupied themselves with trivial tasks. Mr. Darcy found himself writing a letter to a family member in a detailed, careful script. His wife, Elizabeth Darcy, lounged on the long chaise, her feet shoeless and propped on a down pillow. A thick volume sat in her hands, an old adventure epic that smelled like old leather and dust. Georgiana, Mr. Darcy’s younger sister, was drawing a detailed flower design on a large piece of paper on the rich wood floor of the room. The fabric of her dress reflected the shafts of light from the tall windows. To each his own as the time rolled on lazy wheels.

       A messenger appeared in the arched doorway of the open room, presenting a wax-sealed letter to the master of the house and leaving with a small bow. Mr. Darcy’s full eyebrows rose at whom the mysterious letter was from.

       Mrs. Darcy smiled kindly at her husband, thinking about nothing in particular, and returned her eyes to the pages of her book. Her thoughts were lifted from it a minute later when Mr. Darcy cleared his throat to speak. Georgiana put down her pencil to listen attentively from the floor at his feet. This was the most interesting thing to happen in hours.

       “Pemberley will be receiving a guest. It seems my old friend from France is going to be staying with us for an extended time.” He stared at the letter more, reading the rest of its contents, and the girls watched his face change as he read the letter through.

       Elizabeth knew they there was plenty of room for guests in their home. Many spare bedrooms were always at the ready for a guest or a member of their families. Her sisters very much liked to visit her and looked for any excuse to come to Derbyshire. At present, however, no visitors were in the estate, and the days were rather dull.

       Georgiana’s bright, oval face smiled admiringly at her brother though he did not look up from the paper. “Who is your friend? I wonder, what could appeal to him here in Pemberley when France is such a beautiful place? Surely not you, William.”

       Darcy didn’t laugh at her joke. He finished the letter then and set it aside, re-folded. “He has asked me not to mention why he comes, and he does not know the duration of his visit. No matter, he can stay with us for as long as he wishes. He is a most trusted friend.”

       Georgiana stood up from the floor and pattered energetically to the chaise to sit next to her sister-in-law. “You have piqued my interest, brother! I must know _something_ about our guest. What is his name, at the very least?”

       “His name is Erik.”

       Then Darcy looked a bit uncomfortable like he had tasted a bad apple and was about to spit it out. “Erik is… Erik is a strange man. When he gets here, you will be inclined to stare at him. But I ask you to refrain, for your sake and his. You will most certainly frighten him away.”

       This was the most curious thing! Georgiana wondered to herself, staring up at the ceiling mural, about this stranger Erik. Why would he so strongly dislike attention and staring? Any normal person would feel uncomfortable if someone was staring at them, however, it appeared that Erik had a certain feature that called for staring.

       Was he handsome? So handsome that one could not help but stare?

       A dreamy sigh escaped her lungs as she settled back onto the floor, filling in and shading the splendid petals of an outstretching arum-lily bloom.


	2. Two

Chapter 2

When the day came that they were to meet their new visitor, the Darcy women rushed excitedly from outside where they had been pleasantly walking in the gardens into a parlor where Darcy was speaking to the groundskeeper.

        “Ah, my darlings.” He said, watching them buzz with excitement, clinging to each other’s arms and gossiping. He had no clue what had caused the giggling. He dismissed the groundskeeper with a quick nod, and the man bowed and left the room. “What are you on about,” he asked them.

        “It’s him! He’s here,” Georgiana laughed out. Darcy looked to his wife, ever as young-looking and giggly as his sister.

        “It is Erik. He’s in a black carriage! How unpleasant to be in something so hot in the summer!” She and Georgiana shared agreeing nods. Their light, pastel dresses bounced as they did, swishing back and forth around their slippers.

       Just then, a knock resonated through the marble room, the knock of a servant. Even the girls, who had been laughing like birds, closed their mouths and widened their eyes at each other before sobering up and standing at attention to receive the guest.

       The doors were pushed open, and Solomon, the doorman, entered. In a firm voice, he announced a Monsieur Erik. He did not say the last name, place of origin, or a title.

       The man appeared in the doorway, a haunting, tall, black figure. His steps were completely, eerily silent, not even a rustle of fabric. The room seemed to grow colder and shadows deepened. Erik’s skin was very pale, a stark contrast to his expensive black suit and burgundy vest fastened with brass buttons. He was tall, taller than Darcy, his body broad-shouldered, but sinewy in stature. Dark hair was slicked back neatly from his face. One of his arms was folded into his chest under his jacket. The girls curtseyed sweetly, not speaking out like they wanted to in fear of frightening away their intriguing guest. They said nothing about his strangest quality: he wore a white porcelain mask on the right side of his face, covering that side from his hairline down to just above his lips.

       That which was showing was handsome. Beautiful yellow-hazel eyes shone through a veiled gaze, clouded with thoughts and memories. His dark lashes matched his hair and were thick and long. His jaw, unusually angled and pointed, was clean-shaven.

       Erik bowed back to the women, his eyes still lowered to the floor. Mr. Darcy stepped forward and held out a hand for his friend to grasp. Erik took it with his hand, the other still folded over his chest. “Thank you, monsieur, for allowing my visit,” He said in an unexpectedly deep voice, like velvet music from a cello. His French accent was dominant, but there were hints of other language patterns as well.

       Darcy gestured to the girls, who concealed their inner excitement behind polite smiles. “This is my sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy.”

       Erik bowed again in respect. “Mademoiselle.” Georgiana curtseyed for him, taken aback by the combination of extreme civility and shyness. Her cheeks gently flushed a shade of pink as Erik looked from the floor at her eyes for the first time. His gaze was intense, but something darker lurked there in the depths that she couldn’t reach. He looked at her, but it felt like he was looking _into_ her, and she felt goosebumps rise on her arms.

       Mr. Darcy continued, “And my wife, Elizabeth Darcy.”

       Again, Erik bowed to her individually. “Madame.” His French accent came about strongly, in a sultry, masculine way that made Georgiana wonder why he didn’t have girls on his arm. He looked to be younger than her brother, definitely old enough to marry.

       Then, surprising his wife delightfully, Darcy began to speak to Erik in a completely foreign language that was not known to her. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at Georgiana who looked knowingly to her with a smirk. She whispered in her ear lively while the men were distracted. “My brother speaks several languages. This is German. I do not know it either.”

        “Why can’t they speak in English?” She asked, curiously, not seeing the sidelong glance from the masked man.

        “Well, they must have secret affairs to discuss! Such sneaky men! Whatever shall we do? Should we take classes?”

       Darcy and Erik started to move out of the room, talking in low voices. Elizabeth watched them go, smiling after them. She and Georgiana had so much to talk about! She took her sister-in-law by the hand and tugged her outside, unable to hold her laughter in much longer.

        “Erik! My goodness, have you ever seen a creature so strange?” Lizzy said.

        “No, I have not. I must admit, I find his gentlemanly behavior quite nice. Did my brother tell you why he wears a mask?”

       Lizzy found a garden bench and sat down on it, crossing her legs on the embossed marble seat. Georgiana sat beside her with less energy. Elizabeth sighed. “No, he did not.”

       The girls sat in quiet for a moment, playing with the folds of their pastel dresses and watching the birds dance in the sky. “Maybe he’s from the circus. Lots of circus people wear masks.”

       Georgiana nodded. “Or, perhaps, he’s a wanted man and is hiding his face. That could explain his unmentioned reasons for coming to stay with us-- and the secrets!”

        “I don’t see that to be likely. He would cover his whole face if he were wanted. Wouldn’t he? Whatever it is, I can see why he’s so easily frightened. People must tease the poor man a great deal about it. We must never do that. I want him to feel safe with us.”

       Georgiana agreed resolutely.

       A stronger gust of wind carried toward them a smell of freedom, and the girls stood up and let it blow through their dresses and hair, providing relief from the brutal summer heat.


	3. Three

Chapter 3

Darcy invited Erik into the library, where he could guarantee their privacy. He offered the masked man a seat in a plush chesterfield chair while he took the adjacent seat. “My friend, it is so good to see you again. I must ask… what really brings you here to Pemberley? I know that business in the letter was false.”

       Erik nodded. “I apologize for the deception. I needed to write a false truth lest the letter be intercepted by someone other whom I intended.” Darcy smiled.

        “Since I met you, I’ve admired your intelligence.”

       Erik looked uncomfortable. It seemed that what he was about to say troubled him greatly. “I… I thought Pemberley was the only place I’d be safe.” Erik drew a long breath and sighed it out. “I was accosted by a stranger one day while I was doing shows in Russia. He was Persian, and I found that he represented the Shah.”

       Darcy quietly gasped. “Persians?” He knew how violent and amoral Persian culture could be. In an environment like that, Erik could either flourish and learn how to manipulate the political system for his own means, or be crushed like a mouse under an elephant’s foot.

       Erik nodded, staring at the Moroccan rug that covered the floor at their feet. “Persians. The Shah wanted the Magician to come to his palace and entertain his ghastly mother, the Khanum.” He spoke of the woman with hate in his eyes.

       Darcy’s fingers tapped his leg as he looked at his friend. Erik had let down the calm facade he had put in place to greet Darcy’s family. What showed in his eyes now revealed the Erik Darcy knew, one who was capable of terrible things, yet was so passionate and caring when it came to creating and appreciating beautiful things. Darcy could that tell Erik was haunted by his memories of Persia and what he must have done there.

       He was sure Erik was running from some of those bad things now. While he would remain cautious in letting the man stay in his home around precious family, he still trusted the man with his life. The Lord knew he’d saved it a time or two.

        “They’re looking for me now. They sent assassins. I was stupid to think I could escape without her sending those _putains_ after me.” Erik’s eyes turned angry, his jaw muscles flexing as he ground his teeth. He rubbed his shoulder absentmindedly and winced.

       Darcy cocked his head at the action. “Erik, are you alright?”

       Erik sighed again, annoyed. “One of their knives got me in the shoulder. I should expect it to stop hurting soon and I can forget about it.”

       “How recent is the wound?” Darcy seemed more concerned about his friend’s well-being than he did. His dark eyes swam with worry.

        “Fifteen days. I did the stitching myself and was able to use a poultice to keep the inflammation down.”

       Darcy knew Erik couldn’t seek medical attention in France, for the assassins would check the doctors’ practices first for the man they injured. Whatever kind of makeshift care he had given himself would be good enough. His friend was a man of many, many talents, and Darcy trusted that he had taken care of himself. “God’s mercy, Erik.” Darcy ran a hand across his face, groaning. ‘I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

       Erik replied gravely, “This… This is _nothing_ compared to what I have endured.” He stood gracefully with minimal movement of his shoulder and brushed his hand over his burgundy vest. A gold timepiece appeared in his palm as if by magic and Erik stared down at it with disdain. When Darcy looked again, it had vanished. He hadn’t seen Erik reach for any pockets.

        “If you will excuse me, I haven’t been able to sleep in days.”

       Darcy, who now stood facing his friend, shook his hand. “Just do one thing for me. Please be on your best behavior around my family.” Erik’s fingers felt rougher and more calloused since last time he had seen the man, evidence of hard physical labor.

       Erik nodded. “I shall do my very best.”

       Darcy knew that Erik’s best was a powerful thing and decided that was satisfactory. “Then I’ll show you to your room. There are a few hours until dinnertime, and you’re welcome to sleep them off.”


	4. Four

Chapter 4

       Night time fell upon the estate like a blanket. The lively birds returned to their nests and ceased their song while the crickets and night creatures came out to fill the still air with their noise. Wiggling lizards crawled up the walls of the mansion and tried to catch bugs. A barn owl hooted from a tree by the stables.

       Inside the house, most of the occupants slept in their beds, with the exception of the kitchen staff, who were still cleaning up from dinner. The halls were dark and the oil lamps had gone cold.

       Dinner had been an interesting event. Mr. Darcy sat as he usually did at the head of the long, rectangular table, his wife to his right side and his sister to his left. They liked sitting near each other in this fashion so that they could talk and gossip. However, this time, they were joined by Erik, who was placed at Darcy’s left. Georgiana had been moved down one place and sat beside him.

       The women tried to pretend like they weren’t paying much attention to Erik and his habits as he seemed nervous about being in close proximity with people. They noticed that he only used his left hand to eat and the other scarcely moved. They could tell if it was because their guest was left-handed or of his other arm was injured somehow.

       Elizabeth talked about a letter she had gotten from one of her sisters, and about what it was like always having to share her things. Now, she said, she didn’t have to share with anyone, except her bed with her husband, whom she could easily tolerate. She spoke of his neat tendencies and how, really, she was the one that ought to be chastised for her messiness.

       Lizzy watched the stranger as he said quick, simple replies when he was asked a question. He did not disclose anything about his curious person, his mask, or his past. Actually, Elizabeth thought, he reminded her of her husband when she first met him. The difference was that Darcy was cold, and standoffish, while their new guest was smoother. His replies were slyly pleasing as if he was using his sultry accent and tricky words to conceal the disappointment they might feel when he did not reveal anything about himself.

       They didn’t ask anything too personal. It seemed only a few things were acceptable to converse about, like asking what his favorite thing about France was, to which he replied, “the music.”

       All in all, the evening passed by quietly and pleasantly. Erik disappeared to his room once again, and the girls sat reading by lantern light while Darcy busied himself with anything.

 

 

When the kitchen staff finally retired, the house seemed deserted and quiet. Erik, who had been waiting for the night’s cover, left his room. He was completely silent as he moved, barely noticeable to anyone who might have been watching. He slinked down the decorated hallway outside his room, making not a single sound.

       His hosts had kindly put him in a more deserted wing of the house. No one occupied any of the rooms in his hallway and it was pleasantly quiet. He wandered around, getting acquainted with the house, making sure that he knew the quickest exit from every room and where all the doors and windows were. He saw naught a soul as he went into the west wing near where everyone was asleep.

       He went through a doorway into a large room and was struck with appreciation. A beautiful wooden pianoforte stood at the far end, illuminated softly in blue moonlight that glowed through the vertical windows. Behind the piano, a large, cold fireplace of stone was built into the wall under an ornate, golden-framed mirror. There were a few couches and plush chairs scattered about in a pleasing design and a large oak desk furnished with a globe and papers.

       Erik was impressed by the rich patterned wallpapers and gold fixtures. He knew that his friend Darcy had been rich, but he didn’t quite understand the expense of his wealth until visiting his grand home.

       Erik was touching the wood before he knew he was doing it. The silky, dust free surface seemed to hum under his starved touch. He sat at the bench and made a timid minor chord, ending his silence.

 

***

 

Georgiana was restless that night, though she could not figure out why. She had been active all day and her body was pleasantly tired when she went to bed, but sleep evaded her. She sat up from the plush covers of her bed and tossed her legs over the side. The weight of them leveraged her onto her feet. Her nightdress bounced into place around her, skimming the floor. She reached for a white linen robe that was draped over a chair and put it on tying it in the front.

       She went to the door of her bedroom and opened it quietly, leaving it gaping behind her. She started toward the library, hoping that if she read for a while, her mind would tucker out and she would be able to fall asleep.

       Padding over the wooden and marble floors in her stockings, Georgiana listened closely in the silence as one does when sneaking around. She didn’t have to sneak as this was her home and she could be awake as long as she wanted to, but she liked to think that if there were people out, she could be like a ninja from her books and evade them by ducking into a room or hiding behind a piece of furniture. Curiously, she heard a noise that pulled her from her thoughts.

       Leaning back against a wall to be hidden, she identified the noise as her piano, being played soulfully by someone whose talents far exceeded her own.

       In wonder, she crept through the halls and came to the source of the sound. She peeked around the last corner through the doorway. In the distant glowing moonlight, she saw the warping figure of Erik. His shoulders and back were to her, and he only wore a white shirt instead of the vest and jacket he was wearing earlier. His hands were running over the keys to produce the most sorrowful music she had ever heard. It disturbed her kindly soul to hear such disturbing sounds. The music had crescendos and decrescendos that Erik moved with like he was being thrown around in a river current. The music played with her emotions, gripping them tightly and carrying them to a depth of misery she'd never felt before.

       Georgiana felt her chest tighten as the song started to slow down in its climax. The music died out like a flame, giving into the silence of the night. She heard crickets sing outside the window.

       She felt something wet on her face as Erik turned his head just slightly, alerted to her presence. She had just seen the glint of the white mask as she turned on her heel and skittered away. She felt like she had intruded on a very private, intimate moment and it had her face going red. Had he known of her presence all along? Whether he hadn't, it was cowardly of her to run away. She just couldn’t face him after getting a glimpse into that pain he surely felt. The intensity of the feelings manifested in tears running down her cheeks, and she felt empathetic to the poor creature.

       Returning to her room, she jumped into the bed covers and hid her face. All she could see was how the stranger’s body warped, how it moved. It had seemed to hypnotize her, freezing her in her place, barefoot in the warm, summer night. It was several more minutes until she went into a deep sleep, emotionally drawn and feeling the weight of gravity pulling her down into the bed.


	5. Five

Chapter 5

 

Erik heard her when she turned the last corner, trying to be quiet as she tiptoed up to the doorway. He didn’t turn to greet her. Despite Darcy’s warning, he had the intense desire to ensnare the girl, just for a minute. He found the temptation so strong, and it had been too long since he’d had the opportunity to play for someone. His voice was usually his weapon, but he knew he could be just as hypnotizing with his hands.

       When the ended the song, he let his control go and then heard her sniffle. He turned his head at the noise, surprised that she was crying, and became more surprised as she ran away. A small form of regret rose up in his throat. He hadn’t meant to go that far.

 

    ***

 

In the morning, William Darcy woke up before Elizabeth. The early sun shone peacefully through the cream drapes onto her radiant expanse of naked skin. Darcy caressed her shoulder and kissed it softly. Her lips pulled up in delight.

        “Good morning, Mrs. Darcy.”

       She chuckled as she woke to see her husband's beautiful eyes staring down at her, so full of kindness and love that it made her heart ache.

        “Hello, love.” She leaned up to kiss his lips, putting her hand to the side of his face. Her fingertips stroked his sideburns affectionately. “How did you sleep?”

       Darcy and Elizabeth sat up to start their normal morning routine. Darcy hesitated at the question. He would have slept well if it weren’t for his worrying over Erik. He knew the man would be up and around the house while they slept. He trusted him not to do anything irresponsible and hoped that trust wasn’t misplaced.

        “Darling?”

        Darcy answered Elizabeth’s concerned look with a smile. She looked so beautiful, standing naked about to adorn a long, flowing beige dress. Even though she had acquired a higher class and riches since marrying him, she still dressed modestly and comfortably.

       “I slept fine,” He said simply, finishing the buttons on his tunic and dropping the conversation for comfortable silence.

 

The dining room was brightly lit, the hanging ivy plants drinking the sunlight. The green complimented the white marble floors and warm wooden furniture. Georgiana strolled into the room nervously, looking for Pemberley’s guest and finding only her brother and his wife entering from another doorway.

        “Good morning,” she greeted, smiling. She hoped to suppress her anxiety and have a lovely meal with her family.

       “Where’s Erik,” Elizabeth asked.

       Darcy detached from Elizabeth and started toward the tall windows. Georgiana and Lizzy watched curiously as Darcy pulled long, white curtains closed over a few windows, blocking the table from the direct light. The curtains flowed gently in the soft breeze coming through the open frames.

       When Darcy came back to the ladies, he saw their confused looks and explained, “Erik’s eyes are very sensitive to light. He’s more likely to show up to breakfast now that the brightness is reduced.”

       And just as they were approaching the table, Erik came through a third door at the far end of the room where it was darker. He bowed to the family in greeting, his dark clothing contrasting with the light, marbled room.  His white mask was in place still, his dark hair perfect with not a lock out of place. Instead of a burgundy vest and black coat, he wore a white tunic under a dark brown jacket. Only one of his arms was through the jacket sleeve, the jacket simply hanging over his right shoulder as it was yesterday.

       Erik looked around at his kind hosts, and at the young Georgiana last. As they made eye contact, she bit her peach-colored lip and nodded to him, trying not to seem as nervous as she was. He bowed in formal greeting, “Mademoiselle Darcy.”

       The family and Erik took their seats around the table, which was laid out in an assortment of breakfast foods: eggs, potatoes, sausage, jams, and toast. Servants ducked around them and poured green tea and coffee into the elegant porcelain teacups.

       Most of the conversation was idle, not interesting enough for Erik to pay attention, until Georgiana started talking about a new song she was learning to play on her piano.

       “My hands are too small to reach across to hit the notes at the same time. Maybe I ought to play with my nose, too.” Her eyes were bright as she made the joke. Erik’s lips turned up at the corners. To his right at the head of the table, Darcy noted that his friend was listening to Georgiana. Usually, he would look in a direction absently like he was somewhere else. Now, he looked directly at his sister.

       But then Erik surprised the table as he spoke. “Do you play well, mademoiselle?”

       Darcy let his pride shine through on his face. “She does, indeed. Better than anyone in the family.”

       The girl blushed sweetly. “Your confidence in my playing is encouraging, brother, but somewhat misinformed.”

       Erik, his expression warm as the unmasked side of his face barely grinned at her, declined his head saying, “I should like to hear you play, if that isn’t too impudent of me.” He took a sip of cool water to busy himself while waiting for her answer. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her fidget with the napkin in her lap.

       Darcy cleared his throat, urging his sister to give an answer. Elizabeth smiled at her encouragingly.

       “Of course, sir,” Georgiana resolved, “I cannot turn down a guest.”


	6. Six

Chapter 6

 

Erik hadn’t known it was Georgiana’s pianoforte when he played it last night. It was in a different, more private wing out the house, and he never considered until now that there was intention in the location of the piano.

       Georgiana took her seat with an ease that comes with repetition. Darcy and Elizabeth sat together on a plush floral couch. Erik stood in the shadow between two tall windows that were open, airing out the house and bringing the smell of the earthy summer morning on the breeze.

       On the piano stand, a book of handwritten sheet music was open to a page. Erik could not see the title of the piece from where he stood. The young woman ran her hands across the keys in a few test chords before she took a breath and began the song in front of her.

       Music swelled around them, flowing in tempo like a winding river. Fast, then slow. The song was hopeful and lively, and Erik felt like he was getting a glimpse into Georgiana’s soul as she had into his the night before. The feeling of the song felt foreign to him, and he couldn’t quite connect with it. He looked to Darcy and his wife, their faces glowing with pride and happiness as they gently rocked to the music. Elizabeth looked up into Darcy’s eyes and he doted his attention on her face. Erik looked away from the tender moment.

       Georgiana seemed to lose herself in the music. As the last chord hung in the morning air around them, Erik heard her quick breathing and observed her closely. Her shoulders relaxed, but her fingers were still stretched out on the ivory keys as the last notes faded. She flipped her strawberry blonde hair out of her face and removed her hands from the keys.

       Darcy and Elizabeth clapped suddenly, the sound startling Erik. He felt a surge of adrenaline go through his body at the noise, but he kept extremely still and silent after rationalizing the noise. The husband and wife’s ovation came to a close as Georgiana stood up from her stool. She nodded humbly at them, smiling and blushing.

       As her eyes moved to Erik, he didn't know how to look. He knew he should do something to positively affirm her abilities, a smile or vocal feedback because the girl really _was_ good. Erik could tell that she met the criteria for a great future musician, but had room for improvement. She had the best ability of anyone her age that he had seen.

       He decided to bow to her to acknowledge her playing. He bent at the waist, his injured arm over his stomach. “Mademoiselle, I thank you for satisfying my request. Your playing is encouraging and better than anyone of your age that I have heard.”

       This revelation made the girl blush deeper. She nodded nervously, her kind eyes looking at the floor. “Thank you, sir.”

       Darcy stood up, his wife’s arm through his, and joined the conversation. “Erik is also an amazing musician, sister. Perhaps when his arm is healed, he may play _you_ something.”

       Erik looked at his dark-headed friend. The man stood the same height as him but had a larger frame. His eye had a mischievous glint. Erik cleared his throat, suddenly finding it hard to speak. “Of course. Choose your favorite instrument,” he told Georgiana, “and I shall play as you’ve never heard before.”

       Her eyes seemed to light up. Her hands fidgeted at her sides, betraying her excitement. “What instruments do you play, Erik?”

       The young man half-smiled. “The shorter list, mademoiselle, would be the list of instruments I do not play.”

       “Do you play the violin?”

       “Yes.”

        “Cello?”

        “ _Very_ well.” She huffed and crossed her arms. “Hm…” She thought for a moment. “The harp?”

       Erik laughed. It was the first time the family had heard his laugh. It was quiet, but it filled all in attendance with joy. It was the contagious kind, one that was rare and treasured. Behind the mask, his eyes were filled with humor.  

       “Anything with strings.”


	7. Seven

Chapter 7

 

After that, Georgiana watched Erik closely. She could never tell what the man was thinking, though she made many guesses. She noticed that he was always the perfect gentleman even when he was uncomfortable. She knew she should feel more apprehensive about his mask and what could possibly lie behind it, but she felt no anxiety. The mask was part of who Erik was like his dark hair and beautiful, fair skin.

       His first bad mood happened a week into his stay. One of the maids had entered his room for his laundry without asking first, a simple mistake, and Erik had come from the adjacent powder room and frightened the poor girl half to death. Georgiana had asked her what happened, but she would not say. Georgiana asked her brother to give the girl a few days off to return to her family and recuperate.

       While Georgiana and Elizabeth were curious about Erik— for so many reasons!— Darcy seemed to know all and was keeping it from them. When he was told about the incident with Erik and the maid, he had only sighed, ran a hand over his face, and left the room with instructions not to follow him. While he was gone the girls gossiped about Erik. What about him was frightening enough to scare the maid?

       They didn’t see Erik until he came out of his room for dinner the next day. He gave everyone a small bow as he entered the room. Georgiana smiled at him kindly as he sat across from her next to Elizabeth, but he did not return the gesture. He ate sparsely as normal.

       That night, Georgiana thought about him as she was lying in bed, trying to go to sleep in vain. Then the pleasant sound of her piano came creeping down the hall again, so faint she almost didn’t hear it. She stood up from her bed and wrapped her robe over her sleeping gown. She pattered down the hall as quietly as she could and stood around the corner, listening to the chords he played.

       Listening to the music was like reading a book on his life. In the beginning, his playing was soft and elusive like a ghost wandering around a house looking for someone it once loved. Chords faded between beats, the rhythm slow enough that she almost couldn’t tell the time signature.

       “Mademoiselle.”

       Her heart skipped a beat as Erik’s voice addressed her. She stood leaning against the wall as she contemplated whether to go to him or to turn and leave. She decided on the former and tightened the robe around her body.

       Erik sat on the padded bench, his posture slightly hunched over the keys but not bad enough to give him a backache. “Bonne nuit. Will you sit with me?” His voice was low and clear, his French accent enticing her.

       “Do you only play sad songs?” Georgiana sat on the bench next to him where there was plenty of room. She watched his hands. They were unusually long, able to stretch much farther than an octave, something she struggled with due to her smaller, feminine hands. There were scars on his hands she had not been close enough to see before.

       He played his notes not in a key, but in a mode, which enticed her. “I do not know how to write happy songs,” he said answering her question. Her brow furrowed but she believed it.

       “Will you play me something, mademoiselle? S'il vous plait.”

       “I need sheet music.” She started to stand, but he caught her hand. The air went still as he pulled her slowly back to the bench and her heart beat wildly in her chest.

       “No… you do not need music, belle. If you truly are a musician, the music will pour from your soul and tell your hands what to do.”

       Georgiana sat at his right side, the masked side, and looked up into his hazel eyes. She was simultaneously apprehensive at playing for him while he was so close and amazed by his intellect and philosophy. He had also called her beautiful.

       Erik still had her hand in his. The air was silent and warm around them as he laid her hand on the ivory keys. Georgiana moved her hair behind her back with her second hand and set to play. Her first chord was a simple C, lightly changing to an F and then G and playing a series of simple beats. Erik watched her hands with interest and she got the feeling he was looking into her soul through her music just as much as she was with him.

       She followed her impulses with the keys, trilling notes and changing pace from fast and lively to slower, sweeter melodies. Her hands went down to the lower keys from time to time and she had to reach across Erik. He held his breath when she got close and sighed silently when she retreated.

       Georgiana played in the moonlight for several minutes and soon her worry and apprehension melted away in Erik’s soft and attentive stare.

       “How old are you, Erik?” She asked quietly. She had been wondering. He seemed young in body and face, possibly in his twenties, but he acted old like he’d seen things no young person could imagine.

       “What year is it,” he asked her shyly.

       Rather than ridicule him, she simply said, “it is 1823, sir.”

       Erik thought for a moment as Georgiana’s hands on the piano stilled. Her concentration was on him and what he was going to say.

       “I think I am… twenty-four.”

       “When is your birthday?” She was curious. It was so strange that he wasn’t sure how old he was. She could figure out exactly how old she was to the day.

 “En hiver. In the winter.” Erik looked down to the girl’s radiant face. He remembered his birthday to always occur when it’s cold outside, and there was commonly snow. He didn’t want to think about his birthdays. Too many bad memories assaulted his mind and he closed his eyes against them. Georgiana watched his face change in the silent darkness of the night. Erik looked like he belonged in the dark, the only light thing about him being his pale skin and the white porcelain mask that covered half of his face. It made him look like a ghost. Maybe that was the point.

      “Now that I think about it, I turn eighteen in a month.” She continued playing the piano, trilling notes in a calming melody.

       “Which day,” Erik asked.

       “The 16th of August… Will you still be here?”

       Erik looked down at her. At her long golden hair, at her fair skin and bright eyes. They were framed by long, bronze lashes. He didn’t deserve to sit next to such an innocent and pure creature. His twisted soul curdled in his chest. “I hope so, belle.”

       She smiled and her teeth seemed to sparkle in the moonlight as white as his mask. She hadn’t asked him about the mask, and he assumed that Darcy had asked her not to. He knew that wouldn’t stop her from wondering. Still, he felt peaceful sitting next to her and did not worry that she would try to remove his mask. “It’s very late, mademoiselle. You should sleep.”

       Georgiana’s hands stilled on the keys. “You’re right.” The two stood up and Georgiana started to exit the room, the masked musician walking silently beside her. Erik escorted her back to her room. Georgiana didn’t ask how he knew where her room was. He stopped at the doorway. He bowed slightly, saying, “Goodnight, mademoiselle Georgiana,” and turned away down the hallway. She entered her room, hid behind the door, and watched him go through the crack. He made no noise as he walked and after a few feet, he disappeared into the darkness, invisible.


	8. Eight

**Chapter 8**

Erik had been their guest for about two weeks when they received the letter. Elizabeth came into the dining room for breakfast holding a letter from the messenger. She handed it to her husband, rubbing his shoulder with an easy smile, and sat down next to him. Georgiana and Erik sat across from her at the table, chattering quietly about something. Lizzy was pleased to see Erik come out of his shell just a bit and talk to someone. He reminded her so much of Darcy when she’d first met him. Her husband was cold and didn’t like to socialize with people. In a way he was still like that, silent, only talking when he needed to. Maybe that was why the men got along so well. Lizzy had so many questions for her husband, though she knew he couldn’t answer them, yet.

       The dining room was darkened due to the curtains blocking the sunlight. She was fine with that as she didn’t want their guest to be uncomfortable or to hide in his room while the sun was out. She had never seen Erik go outside during the daytime or enter a room with excess sunlight. He and Georgiana had taken a walk the other night in the cool summer air and came back in good spirits.

       They were becoming quite close. She wanted to talk to Darcy about it to make sure that Erik’s intentions with Georgiana were upright. She was wary of Erik despite his smooth words and sly actions. Perhaps that was exactly why she was uneasy around him. But she was happy that he was making a friend. She inferred that friends were rare for Erik to have. He likely trusted very few people.

       Erik’s injury has begun to heal and he was able to move his arm without too much pain. Soon, Georgiana would get the concert she had been promised. She watched her brother open the fancy letter. It had the seal of Lady Catherine, their aunt. She took another bite of her breakfast and looked at Erik, who was actually chewing food. Usually, food just vanished from his plate. “So how many languages _do_ you speak? You’ve told me that you have traveled to many places, so you must also speak the common tongue?”

       Erik nodded slowly. He smirked just a fraction, the emotion making his discolored eyes stand out. It made him more attractive than his usual cold silence. “Français, my native language. English, yours. German as some of the best music is written in that tongue. Italian. Latin for music. Russian and Persian. Those aren’t all, but they are the ones I know best.”

       Georgiana was jaw dropped. She hid her mouth behind her hand, not trying to draw attention from her brother and sister-in-law. Erik was very smug and he took a small sip of his water.

       Darcy cleared his throat. The table gave him its attention. “This letter is from Catherine.” He looked at each person at the table with his kind, patient eyes. “She wishes a visit from us,” he said, “and our guest.”

       Erik tensed, holding his breath. He certainly did not want to visit when he had just settled into staying at Pemberley with his old and new friends. It was also not wise for him to be out gallivanting when there were dangerous people looking for him.

       Darcy continued. “She heard that we had a musically talented guest staying with us, you know how she is about that, Lizzy, and she wishes for him to come and play for her.”

       Erik was about to retreat. The mere thought of performing for anyone ever again sent bile to his mouth and his fingers twitched for a weapon in defense. If this Catherine knew of his presence, who else did?

       “How could she have heard that we had someone staying with us? A maid?” Elizabeth stood from her chair and moved behind her husband to peer over his shoulder at the letter. “ _I must insist for my health and my pleasure that you make a trip as soon as it is convenient to Rosings. You may stay with Mr. and Mrs. Collins if you wish_ _…_ Insist for her ‘health’?”

       Darcy folded the letter and set it aside. “She has always been quite dramatic.” He looked at Erik and noticed his tense, apprehensive state. He was no longer eating and he looked to be completely frozen. He didn’t even breathe. “Erik?”

       The masked man stood from his chair. “I must excuse myself. I’m sorry.” He left the table abruptly, silently swishing out of the room without a sound. He was gone in a few short seconds, leaving the table stunned.

       Darcy looked at his girls. They looked between him and the door Erik disappeared from. Georgiana started to stand up, “Maybe I should talk to him?”

       Darcy stood from his chair. “No. Let me,” he said, standing up and smoothing out his clothes. He nodded at the girls, then walked the length of the dining room to follow Erik.

   


	9. Nine

**Chapter 9**

 

Erik heard footsteps in the outside hallway, then a solid knock on his door. “Erik, my friend, may I come in?”

       Erik paused from stalking back and forth and opened the door. As soon as Darcy shut it behind him, Erik continued his nervous walking. He made a line from one side of the room to the other, working his hands together in a nervous tick the way he did when something was really bothering him. His face was set in a calloused, almost angry look and his yellow eyes were piercing.

       The chamber was dark, the curtains pulled closed. A few candelabras lit up the desk and vanity, but the room was otherwise unlit. The heady scent of incense that burned in multiple places added to the very gypsy-like attitude of the room.

       “Erik? Speak your mind,” Darcy said, inviting Erik to put his problem into words. Erik needed to get his feelings out or else there would be consequences.

       “I-” He started, crouching mid-step and holding his hands over his face and mask, “I don’t feel it is a good idea to go. I may have shaken my assassins, but if word gets out about a talented musician who wears a mask, they will find me. They will find you. And Madame Elizabeth. Mademoiselle Georgiana. It will not be only me in danger.”

       Darcy sat down in one of the English chairs by the cold fireplace. “I share the same concern.” He looked around the room. Sheets of paper were scattered about in stacks and lone leaves. Some contained scores of musical notes while some, to Darcy’s amazement, were covered in detailed architectural drawings. He saw a fountain, a hotel, and what looked to be a grand cathedral in the workings. Above the vanity, a blanket had been thrown over the mirror.

       “What are we to do about it?” Erik sat down on the floor and folded his legs as they did commonly in the East. “I should leave. You and your family may be safer if I lure my assassins in another direction.”

       Darcy objected immediately. “No. I should write my aunt. Tell her that I have no such guest.”

       “It would be too easy to prove that false. Your entire house staff has seen me. No… Tell her I am sick or injured and incapable of travel.”

       Darcy thought about that. “Shall I tell her that you’re not a musician? That she heard wrong? If I disprove that rumor, your assassins may not pick up your trail.”

       “Possibly. Will she believe it?” Erik turned his body around on the ground so that Darcy could only see his back. Erik moved to take off the mask and set it beside him on the ground. He rubbed at what lay hidden underneath and groaned in pain or annoyance, Darcy couldn’t be sure.

       “I hope she will. I will tell her that our guest is an old friend and that he had become sick. I will say that we should not have visitors for fear the sickness would spread, and politely decline a visit to Rosings.”

       “That will not work either,” Erik said, distressed. “Again, our house would not be able to keep that secret. Unless you tell most of your house staff that there is a sickness and send them away like it is really contagious. Keep only those you trust here to serve the house.”

       Darcy thought about that. Erik’s mind seemed capable of examining every possibility and choosing the best course of action.

       Erik sighed hard and got to his feet. His hand reached for a golden pocket watch and he glanced at it. He seemed to find the time satisfactory because he then went to a table that was covered in intricate drawings, notes, and some sort of machine with intricate springs and gears. He set to work on it and continued speaking. “How long would we be able to keep up that lie? Pemberley’s guest, given time, would either recover or die. Either way, the lie would be temporary.”

       Darcy watched Erik’s hands with fascination. It had been so long since he’d seen him work, and even then, he hadn’t seen anything like this. Erik’s lithe fingers were caressing the machine’s parts like it was an animal starving for affection. A tug here and a twist there and the machine started moving.

       “A temporary lie may be the only one we need. How long do you think you will need to stay here? Not that you aren’t welcome to stay as long as you need.” Darcy cleared his throat at the end, trying to avoid awkwardness.

       Erik had his watch out again and seemed to be timing the machine. After a while he started talking to himself, Darcy’s question forgotten. “Twenty-seven seconds. Too slow. Too slow.”

       Just as Darcy was about to ask again, Erik answered, stowing the watch and coming to sit in the armchair facing his friend. “Realistically, it may take several weeks for the assassins to move out of this area to find me somewhere else. If they catch wind of the rumor, they will be on us like the plague on rats. I would be forced to face them.”

       Darcy thought about that abhorrent possibility. He knew Erik was capable of taking on multiple people at once in a fight, so Erik’s safety was not the main concern. What he was worried about was the possibility that Erik would lose himself in the fight. He had seen it before, Erik in a fight for his life. All traces of the logical genius would be gone, taken over by the primal urge to survive and kill. Remembering that look in his eyes, the cold, piercing stare of a wild animal, made Darcy shiver in fear. He would do whatever he could help Erik avoid a confrontation like that.

       “Tell your aunt,” Erik said, “that your guest has fallen ill. That will give me time to prepare myself if a fight does find me.”


	10. Ten

Chapter 10

 

“This will help you sleep.” Erik handed Georgiana a small glass bottle of orange tinted liquid. Taking it in her hand, she swished it around and saw that there was a whole rose bloom inside. There weren’t roses on the estate, so she wondered where he got such a flower. And the lip of the bottle was too small to fit the rose through the opening.

       She looked from the curious bottle into his eyes. “Thank you, Erik. Where did this come from?” It looked like some kind of gypsy concoction that one could only find at the traveling fairs. She’s never been allowed to go near one for fear of the “heathens” but she’s read about them in books.

        “I brewed it,” Erik smirked smugly. “Take it a few minutes before bedtime, and make sure you’re in bed soon after because if not, you may find yourself asleep on the floor somewhere.” He turned his attention back to the piano in front of him, demonstrating a skill she had asked about before Erik remembered the medicine in his pocket.

        “Is there no limit to what you can do, Erik?” She would feel uneasy about taking a gypsy medicine, but because it came from Erik, and he would never harm her, she would try it.

       Erik played a series of chords along the length of the keyboard. “I have not found one, yet.”

 

Darcy stood as the first of the house staff entered the main sitting room, Angelo Vitanza, the head chef. Elizabeth stood to the side in a simple blue dress, Georgiana next to her in a rose pink one. They had been informed on what the plan was but were only given a vague answer as to why this plan was necessary at all. They both trusted Darcy and knew they would be told more about the situation in time.

       They had gathered that Erik was in danger somehow, and if word got out about a masked musician, the people would find him. While Georgiana didn’t know why Erik was wanted, she hoped it was a misunderstanding and not because he had committed some crime.

       Georgiana tried to keep her impatience and confusion at bay, hidden behind the concerned and perhaps solemn expression she put on her face for the moment. More house staff came into the room, chatting quietly with each other and falling quiet when they saw her brother, Fitzwilliam Darcy. He welcomed them with a soft smile, trying to put them at ease.

       Each member of the house staff were heads of their respective task. There was the main chef, the groundskeeper, the maid who had served the house the longest and is usually in charge of the rest, the gardener, the man in charge of the stables, and a few more.

       Darcy addressed them with a kind smile and firm voice. “Thank you all for coming here this morning. I hope you’re in good health?” He received a few nods. “Good. I regret to inform you that our guest, Erik, has fallen ill.”

 

The house staff was not happy to hear that most of them would be sent home, but Darcy offered to continue to pay the normal wage in their absence. This received no complaints. The staff seemed excited to take a vacation- a paid one at that- and were practically skipping out of the room.

       When the house staff was gone, the dark figure of Erik suddenly materialized in the room, nowhere near a door. Georgiana was the first to see him and jumped. Her squeal of fright alerted Darcy and his wife to Erik’s presence.

        “I’m so sorry mademoiselle,” Erik groveled, placing his hand over his heart in a slight bow. Georgiana laughed, her smile lighting up her face brightly as she reached backward for Elizabeth’s arm. “Erik, you scared me.”

       Erik smirked slyly as Georgiana recovered and Darcy and his wife smiled, holding each other in a loving embrace. “I didn’t think it would be a good idea to show myself. I’m supposed to be sick.”

“Yes,” Darcy agreed, “that would be best.”

       Georgiana sat down on a chaise lounge behind her, inviting Erik to sit also. He glanced at Darcy and Lizzy, who were having a conversation as they walked out of the room, leaving the two of them alone. He knew that is was English custom to never leave an unmarried man and girl alone together unless they were of the same family or courting. However, he had been allowed to be alone with Georgiana on several occasions from teaching her piano skills to going on walks at night. Her family members didn’t seem to be alarmed, so he sat down next to her, adjusting the pillow behind his back to be more comfortable.

       “How are you doing, Erik?” Georgiana’s bell tone voice was quiet in the large room. He thought about the question. Was he alright?

       “I am fine, mademoiselle. Et vous?”

       She smiled gently, relaxed against the cushion. “I think I am fine as well. Although I am quite confused and find myself wanting more information about your situation than you and my brother are giving me.”

       Erik’s face was void of emotion. He stared down at his long legs covered in black trousers. He knew that she was very smart and that she and Elizabeth had mostly put together his situation, even if they didn’t know what he was running from. He decided that he would tell her a bit more, but nothing about his past.

       “You may know that I am in danger. That there are people after me.” He turned his head and looked at her, confirming that she was listening intently. She nodded, some of her blonde hair falling from behind her ear. She reached up to stroke it into place. Her rosy scent wafted toward him and he tried to focus.

       “You may not know the extent of the danger which threatens my life, and if we are not careful, yours as well.”

       “Explain yourself,” she said, grave seriousness in her tone. He saw then the maturity of the girl sitting patiently and quietly beside him. She took the information in stride as he explained the situation with her aunt that he and Darcy had discussed the day before. Now she knew of his assassins, and from whence they came. She did not know why he was being hunted, and that was a secret he would rather die than be exposed, to any of the Darcy family. They would not give him sanctuary if they really knew.

       He told her about the threat to her family, sparing no detail about the importance of keeping his presence at Pemberley a secret.

       “I see,” Georgiana said after he had finished. “I knew you were fleeing, but I had figured it was because of the political unrest in your country, that you may have been involved in the uprisings and were a radical fleeing. However, they would not send Persian assassins after you had your problem been with France.”

       “I wish it were France because at least I would be safe outside of the country. The French do not care if someone flees, as long as they are not in France. Persians… they chase you like they are hunting an _animal_ ,” he said with malevolence.

       Georgiana watched as Erik stood to his feet in contempt and barely-contained rage. His eyes flashed with an emotion she had never seen before, a hatred so intense that she was almost afraid he would turn it on her. His fists were balled at his sides and vibrated with energy. “I would leave to draw the assassins somewhere away from you, if they are in England at all,  but I fear they would come to Pemberley in my absence.”

       “Erik,” she said quietly, hoping to draw him from the dark place he was stewing in. When he looked at her face, the hate in his eyes disappeared. His shoulders relaxed from their tense stance and he seemed to come back to himself.

       “Yes, mademoiselle?”

       She tried not to look afraid of him. “How is your arm feeling? Is it well enough to play me something?” The shoulder was rightly inside of his jacket as it had been for the last few days, a testament to his increased mobility.

       He nodded solemnly, exhaling. A gentle smile graced his lips. “I believe it is.” He held his hand out to her, the first time he has ever been willing to touch someone without fear. The young woman took his hand and he helped her to stand in front of him. He could feel her pulse beating at her wrist, quicker than it should have been. Her honey-colored skin was warm in his hand as he let it go and began to escort her from the room.


	11. Eleven

Chapter 11

 

It was raining that day, and thunder crashed across the rolling hills of Derbyshire. In the music room, tall windows were uncovered to let the limited daylight inside. The slight sunlight shone through streaks of water that raced down the tall panes of glass, projecting wiggling shadows to the ground and furniture.

       A flash of lightning striated across the sky as Georgiana and Erik entered the room and a booming thunder sounded a few seconds later. Erik observed the large wooden cabinets that were set up around the perimeter of the room. He’d been to this room before, but he had not seen what the cabinets contained. There were a few lounges, chairs, and tables set up artfully around the area, facing the center point of the room where he guessed musicians were meant to play.

       “Which instrument are you feeling today,” Georgiana asked, lightly touching his forearm as she led him to the cabinets.

       “Show me all,” he asked simply. She obliged him, opening each cabinet and explaining its contents. He would trail behind her, observing the instruments, remarking on how long it had been since each item had been played with frightening accuracy. When he’d seen everything, he selected a beautiful Italian violin from its carved wooden stand. He took a bow and rosin and began to prepare them. Erik cast his eyes at Georgiana, who was watching his hands with interest. Her large eyes were bright with excitement and curiosity.

       Erik drew the rosin across the bowstrings gracefully, plucking a stray horse hair from it, before taking it and the violin and walking away. Georgiana was confused because Erik didn’t stand in the middle of the room. Instead, he stopped in front of the window and put his back to it, facing her. He took no music stand or score, for she knew he played from memory. She watched, waiting for his spell to begin.

       Erik took a few short seconds to tune the violin, finishing faster than anyone she’d seen before. He raised the violin to his chin and pulled one sweet note from the strings that saturated the air with satisfying vibrato. His movement was slow and fluid as he changed to another note, beginning the song. (Nocturne no. 20 in C-sharp minor, Chopin. Arranged for violin and recorded by Rafal Belchacz and Bomsori Kim)

       The violin’s singing was unlike the sad, loathsome tunes that came from the piano when Erik played. These new sounds seemed to be paired with the constant pelting of the rain against the glass and the occasional thunder crash. Strangely, the thunder beat in time to Erik’s rhythm.

       The song pulled at her heartstrings, and she closed her eyes against a tear, surprised to be so moved so early by the sheer beauty of the sight before her. She clutched a feather pillow in her lap.

       Erik’s body flowed with the music like a willow tree in the breezes, bending forward and back as his arm stroked the bow and his opposite hand worked the bowstrings, vibrating at the perfect times to create the vibrato tones. Thunder crashed behind him again, louder and closer than before.

       She could have sat there all day long, ignoring her hunger and the few servants that there were in the house. Erik would have played for her all day long if she just kept looking at him like _that_.

       Erik, having timed his music to the storm, slowly faded out his tune on its last note as the thunder rolled over them for the last time. The rumble of the thunder mixed with the high tone of his last, sweet note before fading away. One of his own tears dripped from his eye, concealed by the porcelain mask. He relaxed his stance, holding the violin by the neck as he left the window.

       Georgiana still sat on her cushion, her feet curled up underneath her with her slippers on the ground as she hugged a pillow to her chest. She watched Erik as he stowed the violin and the other things back in the cabinet, still trying to process the feelings of the song only the two of them heard.

       The song was like the rain itself, it felt like falling. Falling from repetitive everyday life into something new and curious and beautiful. The long strokes of the bow and the combination of artful high and low tones made her feel something she was still trying to process when Erik sat on the cushion beside her.

       “Mademoiselle?” His gentle voice called to her, and not for the first time, she wondered if he sang. Without looking at him, she shyly wiped the tears from her rosy cheeks.

       “Thank you, Erik. That was beautiful.”

       She saw him nod in her peripheral vision. “Avec plaisir.”

       Georgiana rubbed the downy pillow in her lap absentmindedly. She glanced at Erik, whom she saw in a completely new light. “Do you sing, Erik,” she asked.

       He seemed troubled by the question, looking like she’d asked him to sit on the floor and massage her feet. “I do sing, mademoiselle… But my voice is not a spell I will cast on you if I can help it.” Thunder boomed outside as if to punctuate his point. She was confused, but would not push him. Confusion and secrets were apparently something that came with the mystery of the masked man sitting beside her.

 

 

Darcy left the room with his wife on his arm. He doted on her profusely, extremely lucky to have found such an amazing woman- one who learned to love his intolerable arse with just as much stubbornness. And now, he felt, he was about to make her angry. He and Erik had spoken the day before about telling the women about Erik’s situation. They deserved to know what was going on, especially if they could be in danger.

       It pained Darcy to think of Erik’s assassins coming here, to his home, to harm his precious family, his blood. He led his wife to her favorite place: the library, where his huge mahogany desk sat covered in important papers and books. Off to the side, a reading nook nestled in a bay window where plenty of natural light shined. This was Elizabeth’s favorite spot on the house except for the large porcelain bathtub in their bathing room. He hoped that her affection for the cushioned space would lessen her reaction to what he was about to tell her.

       “Have you got something to tell me, my love?” Lizzy took his large hands in hers and kissed the knuckles of each one, something she did if he looked stressed. Her large brown eyes stared up at him perceptively.

       “You always know, Lizzy.”

       She quirked an eyebrow. “I hope it has something to do with a certain Frenchman who is staying in our guest room. There are so many things I don’t know about him. I want to like him, but I’m cautious.”

       Darcy nodded proudly at his wife. “Rightly so. Erik isn’t the most _normal_ person to grace our steps.”

       “Does he have a last name?”

       “He used to.” Out of all the questions, she wanted to know his name, and not what he thought was the most obvious question: why he wore the mask. He took a trying breath and told her about why Erik was at Pemberley. She didn’t take too kindly to the assassins, immediately reprobating him for allowing Erik to stay with them. He had to persuade her that Erik had shaken his assassins in France and had come to England unseen. She had more questions for him, ones that he himself did not know the answers to.

       “What is he running from in Persia?”

       “I do not know, Lizzy.” He sighed. “he hasn’t told me that. I worry that he may have done something regretful, but I hope it’s only a misunderstanding.”

       She was silent, her arms still by her sides, her hands clasped in her lap. “What about Georgiana,” she said after a minute. “Will he hurt her?”

       “I don’t think- “

       “Because if we have to send her away to protect her from this stranger who has _trained killers_ looking for him, I swear, Fitzwilliam, I’ll do it in a heartbeat.”

       Darcy shared the protective love for his sister, but Elizabeth didn’t know Erik as he did. She wasn’t aware of his amazing talents that defied all human understanding. When Erik told Darcy that he had shaken his assassins in France, he believed it. The man was so akin to a ghost that he knew Erik could disappear into the night, and never be seen by another living soul except by his will.

       “Erik will not hurt her. He has promised me, and he is a man of his word.” She seemed unconvinced. He continued, caressing her fair cheek with the back of his hand tenderly, “Erik has such a kind soul. He cares for things that need nurturing and healing. Fixes broken things. And he creates the most amazing works of art. Lizzy,” he touched his hand to the smooth skin of her cheek, “Erik cares about beautiful things. Georgiana is one of the most beautiful things in this world. Erik _will_ protect her. It’s in his nature.”


	12. Twelve

Chapter 12

 

The Darcy family came together for supper that night, but there was a tension that wasn’t there before. Elizabeth was still a bit angry with her husband for not telling her that their lives may be in danger, as well as the lives of their staff and servants for whom they cared deeply.

       Georgiana seemed to be taking it better, no doubt charmed by Erik’s careful words. Darcy watched his sister enter the room and sit down in her chair, then at Erik as he stood next to her, waiting for the fairer sex to be seated before allowing himself to join them at the table. They didn’t speak much throughout the meal, and when the small family did speak, it was about the weather and plans for the day. Erik resisted the urge to roll his eyes, remembering his promise to be on his best behavior. He watched Elizabeth Darcy closely, looking for signs of loathing toward him. Darcy no doubt had told her about him, and he only hoped she gave him the benefit of the doubt. He could absolutely handle people loathing him—hating him, even—but for reasons he couldn’t resolve, he wanted the Darcy family to like him.

       Erik reached up to itch his earlobe, running his fingers over his masked cheek. The skin behind it ached. He was lost in his own thoughts when he realized someone had addressed him.

       “Pardon moi?” He gave the table his attention, looking for who had addressed him.

       Elizabeth went to speak again. “I had asked you if your room was to your liking?” She smiled at him, seemingly not angry. It could have been a womanly ploy, a mask. Mrs. Darcy seemed more intelligent than one would expect.

       He nodded once. “Oui, Madame. It is perfect. Thank you.” He looked down at his hands and realized that his fingers were shaking slightly. He removed them to his lap.

       After dinner, he excused himself from the room, politely brushing off Georgiana’s query about a violin. He stole away to his room quickly, closing the door securely behind him and making sure that there were no maids or servants in his chambers. He dug in his vest pockets for his pipe and opium. He found the pipe, but only an empty tin in his other pocket. He cursed in his native language, then in Persian. Again, in Russian.

       Erik cursed himself for being so careless and allowing his stores to become so dangerously low. With loathing in his heart, he decided to travel back to the city under the veil of night.

 

 

Georgiana played her piano, alone this time, sitting under the gentle light of a single candle. She heard the crickets and frogs around the lake singing through the open window and joined her music with them. She played a slow, sweet piece from the handwritten papers in front of her.

       “You sound beautiful, sister.”

       Georgiana looked up to her brother coming into the room. He wore one of his favorite white shirts with a robe over it. She knew he was about to turn in for the night. “Hello, William.” She smiled down at her hands as they ran across the keys slowly. “I’m getting better every day. Erik’s tutoring is helping very much.”

       “How are you this evening?” Her brother came to stand beside her, a large, comfortable presence. He laid a hand lovingly on her shoulder.

       “I am faring quite well despite the possible danger to all our lives. I hope that your letter to Catherine is effective.”

       Darcy’s eyebrows pulled together over his forehead. “I hope for that as well. The very last thing I want is for you to be in danger.” He looked toward the open window. Seeing the impressive size of the moon that night, he stepped closer to view it through the open air. The lake reflected the moon’s light in a silver glow. Darcy looked closer, and to his surprise, he saw a shadow move in front of the lake in a dark silhouette. With his heart now beating wildly, the man watched the shadow turn, and moonlight reflected off the white porcelain on its face. Sighing in relief, Darcy watched Erik continue on his path and disappear into the tree line.

        “Brother, are you alright?”

       Darcy turned from the window. His young sister had stood from her piano stool and was watching him closely, on guard. Her shawl was wrapped securely around her shoulders. He cleared his throat. “I’m quite fine. I’m sorry to alarm you. Thought I saw something. It was just a goose.”

 

The forest was warm and humid, the small animals chirping around the underbrush when Erik passed by. He saw two owls on his way, but he didn’t stop to observe the fellow lords of the night.

       He came upon a tall hill and stood on its tallest rocky outcropping. He looked down at the town below where the wide streets were starting to empty of people. Women in summer dresses held the arm of their beau, father, or brother as they were escorted to their carriages. A boy in a beret was hopping between streetlamps to light them, and the golden glow of the fire cast rings of light around the poles.

       Erik started down the rocks, nimbly reaching the bottom faster than any human should. He skirted around the edge of the town, unseen, as he hunted for a den or dealer. With England’s imperial trade with the India colony, it was likely that there was a den somewhere near.

       Erik sniffed the air, trying to catch a hint of the signature smell.

 

 

Georgiana climbed into her bed with an armful of items. Settling under the covers, she picked up the drawing pad and a charcoal pencil, inspired to draw the image impressed into her memory.

       In a short time, the drawing took shape and Erik’s dark figure stood in front of the high arched windows of the music room. Rivulets of rain trailed down the glass and smudgy, dark clouds filled the sky outside. Erik’s mask glowed white and stood out from his shaded surroundings. She drew his eyes to be piercing with careful detail as she remembered how he had looked at her as he caressed the Italian violin.

       Georgiana shivered as she finished shading the drawing. It was some of her best work but she decided not to show it to anyone. This drawing she would keep for herself. She felt for the other item she brought to bed. She looked at the vial of orange-tinted liquid and was again amazed by the full-bloom rose inside. Her mind was mystified thinking of how Erik was able to do that. She pulled the cork from the small lip and tasted the contents. The medicine tasted like orange peel and rose, as she suspected, but there was a hint of something else that must have been the active ingredients.

       As told, she finished the whole bottle and set it aside on the end table. As she was blowing out the candle, she felt a pull on her mind, something making her very, very sleepy. She smiled at the feeling and settled into her covers. She pictured Erik and herself on the piano bench, smiling silently at each other as his hands manipulated the keys, and fell into a deeply satisfying sleep.


	13. Thirteen

Chapter 13

*Contains mildly suggestive content.*

 

Georgiana wasn’t at breakfast the next morning. As Mr. and Mrs. Darcy looked at each other in the dining room, they realized that Erik wasn’t either. She and her husband had been late to breakfast that morning and expected the two young people to already be seated when they arrived together. Elizabeth squeezed her husband’s hand and stared down at the empty place settings. “This is suspicious. Darling, would you check Erik’s rooms, and I’ll look for Georgiana?”

       Her husband looked down at her with his dark, beautiful eyes. “Of course.” He kissed her hand and turned to leave. Elizabeth sighed. A woman servant came from the kitchen carrying two plates. She stopped in her tracks when she saw the empty chairs at the table. Lizzy smiled at her. “We’ll be late.” The woman curtsied humbly and walked backward through the door to the kitchen.

       Lizzy checked the parlor with Georgiana’s piano. No sign of the young people. As she opened Georgina’s bedroom door, she was relieved to see Georgiana asleep in her plush four-poster bed. Lizzy smiled to herself at Georgiana’s unruly sleeping hair covering her pillow and part of her face. The girl looked very comfortable, hugging a pillow in her linen nightgown and silk sheets.

       Elizabeth gathered her dress and sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing Georgiana’s arm to wake her up. The girl stirred slightly but did not wake up. Lizzy tried again, “Georgiana. Darling, we’re late for breakfast.” Lizzy’s forehead creased in concern when that didn’t work either. She looked around the room for anything out of the ordinary. On the bedside table, a small glass bottle sat empty save for a rose flower in full bloom. Curious, she picked it up, studying it. She smelled the lip, catching orange scents and something else. It was a gypsy medicine, and Georgiana must have taken it.

       While Georgiana didn’t seem to be in any kind of danger, Elizabeth was still concerned. How much longer was she going to sleep? The medicine was definitely from Erik. Lizzy was convinced that he didn’t mean her sister any harm, so Georgiana should be fine as soon as she woke up. Lizzy resolved to stay right next to her until she did. She grabbed a book from Georgiana’s desk and settled next to her sleeping form to wait.

 

Darcy knocked on Erik’s chamber door at the end of the deserted hallway. He felt a slight sense of dread for what he might find inside. On the other hand, everything may be perfectly fine, and Erik might be caught up in designing a building or composing music. He knocked again, but received no answer. He pushed the door open slowly and saw the remnants of haze filling the room, slowly drifting out the open window. In the haze, Erik laid on his eastern cushions in the corner, relaxed.

              “Erik.” Darcy approached him, stepping over books that littered the floor. Erik’s eyes were open, but he was distant, intoxicated by the drug that filled the room with its vapors.

              Erik glanced up at him, his mask radiant in the low morning sunlight that came through the window. “Darcy. I… Apologize for making a mess. I’ll clean it.” He adjusted his position on the cushion but didn’t make an effort to get up in his impaired state.

              “Erik, what have you done?” Darcy sat in the luxe office chair that had been removed from the desk. He stared in concern for his friend, who clearly had an addiction. He wasn’t surprised, for Erik had an addictive personality. He had an unclear sense of right and wrong. He wouldn’t see how something that could make him feel euphoric could be wrong. Trying to make him believe that would likely result in failure.

              “Opium helps me think. They gave it to me in the Palace. I ran out yesterday,” he said nonchalantly, exhaling and relaxing further into the red-patterned cushion. His limbs were spread out like he was in a bed.

              “Why wasn’t Georgiana at breakfast,” Darcy asked. It was likely that Erik had something to do with it. He and she wouldn’t be late to the meal on the same day unless something had happened.

              “Ah,” Erik sighed, opening and closing his hands as if squeezing the air, “she told me she was having difficulty sleeping. I gave her a medicine. She’ll come out of it feeling very rested and healthy.” He looked at Darcy, whose face was riddled with worry. “Darcy, you know I wouldn’t give her anything that could harm her. I know what I am doing. I have been studying medicine since I was a child.”

              Darcy had not known this about his friend. “With the gypsies?” He coughed as the cloudy air entered his lungs and made him feel light-headed. Gypsies weren’t exactly legal practitioners of medicine- or safe ones at that.

              “Oh, oui. There was an old woman who had cured me of a sickness. I started learning how the medicines worked and became more skilled than she was. Not only can I create medicine, but the most undetectable poisons.” Erik lifted a hand and waved it through the smoke vapor in front of his face. The air was slowly becoming clearer as it drifted out the window. Darcy was once again reminded of how dangerous Erik was.

              “I need to go check on the women, to make sure Georgiana is all right.”

              “She’s fine, Darcy. You worry too much.”

              Darcy stood up. “I worry more when you’re around. Don’t give me more reasons to worry. If you’re going to do drugs at my home, please do them outside.”

 

“Darlings?” Darcy knocked on Georgiana’s door and stepped back. He heard giggling voices inside and inferred that his sister was getting dressed and ready for the day. Elizabeth opened the door, calling over her shoulder, “and you have tiny hands!” Lizzy giggled as she closed the door behind and walked into her husband’s arms. “Good to see you again. I found her completely asleep in bed. Erik- “

              “Yes, he gave her a sleeping medicine. Apparently, she hasn’t been sleeping well.” He leaned down to kiss his wife gently and with much affection. He shivered when she ran her tongue along his bottom lip and tugged at it with her teeth. He could tell she was feeling very playful. He leaned down to whisper in her ear as he hugged her to his chest.

              “Darling, it’s unfair for you to tease me like that.”

              She chuckled, her hands roaming his front over his clothes. “Oh, I know. We have some time before breakfast can start. Come with me.” She took his hand and tugged him down the hallway toward their bedroom.


End file.
